No one knew how much time had passed since the fall.
Jiro's body ached. His hands trembled. The air, dense and nearly unbreathable, weighed on his shoulders like an invisible slab. Everything was silent… not a normal silence, but one that seemed to hold the world's breath, as if something even darker awaited the next exhale.
Beside him, Saria remained unconscious. Her body barely moved, as if suspended between life and something else. Kogorō, the old spirit, maintained a spiritual barrier that gently enveloped the young girl. He did so with difficulty, like a lantern with a dwindling flame.
Jiro could barely stay on his feet. His knees shook, and his breathing was erratic. But his mind, his chest, his soul... were elsewhere.
The image of his friend consumed him. His body trapped by those impossible webs. His face, expressionless yet resolute, at the very moment he pushed him out of danger. The memory was so fresh it hurt like an open wound.
—It's my fault... —he whispered, voice broken, as his fist crashed against the rocky wall.
The echo of the blow spread through the underground cavern. The hanging roots, dry and blackened, looked like exposed veins—arteries of a sick heart beating deep within the castle.
Kogorō watched him with sorrow, unsure whether to intervene or let him release that rage. He tried to speak to him, but Jiro couldn't hear. He was trapped in a whirlwind of thoughts—and something else...
A voice, soft but persistent, echoed in his mind.
"Bryan... Bryan… Bryan…"
A woman beneath a massive tree. Her face covered with shifting scribbles, alive, like worms. A surreal image, torn from another existence.
Bryan?
Who was Bryan?
Why was that woman calling him that… and why did he feel that name… belonged to him?
He brought a hand to his head, feeling the dried blood on his forehead. The dizziness wasn't just physical; it was spiritual. As if something inside him had cracked. As if a dormant truth had begun whispering from the depths of his being.
Kogorō slowly floated toward him, his voice calmer this time.
—What are you thinking about, Jiro?
The young man looked up, his eyes dull, nearly empty.
—I don't know... —he said—. I saw something… I don't know if it was a memory, a dream, or something else.
—I felt like someone was trying to make me remember something I forgot long ago.
The spirit remained silent. He studied him for a few seconds that felt eternal. Something in Jiro had broken. Not physically. Something deeper.
—It might've just been the blow —he offered finally—. Although... if it was a spiritual message, maybe someone is trying to reach you from another plane.
—It doesn't matter —Jiro said suddenly, forcing himself to his feet—. Not now.
He stood up. His body trembled, but his resolve burned.
—The only thing that matters to me is Ardan.
—Jiro, that's enough! —Kogorō shouted, more desperation than authority in his voice—. You're hurt, you can barely walk! And you don't even know how to climb back up!
Jiro turned to him. His eyes were no longer empty. They were full of rage… and fear.
—What am I supposed to do?! Wait here? Sit around while they drag him to that damned queen's maw?!
His lips trembled. Tears began to fall, but he didn't stop.
—I won't let it happen again! No more losses! No more guilt! No more standing back!
Kogorō looked at him silently. He wanted to say something. Maybe yell. Maybe comfort him.
But something in the boy's eyes stopped him. Something broken. Something powerful.
And then, for a moment, the old spirit lowered his gaze. Not out of resignation.
But out of respect.
Jiro was ready to move forward. Even with a soul in shreds.
The echo of falling rubble still vibrated against the corridor walls when Kogorō finally knelt, placing both hands on the ground. The air grew denser, as if the very breath of the castle had come to a halt.
A faint blue light pulsed from his chest. With a soft sigh, he channeled his Spiritual Energy, wrapping it around Saria's unconscious body. Her hair gently floated, and her body began to rise with an unnatural peace, as if she slept on the edge of a deep dream.
—Maybe this way we can get her out of here… until she wakes up —Kogorō said in a calm voice, though his eyes betrayed the tension.
Jirō, standing beside them, frowned.
—Seriously…? —his gaze sharpened as his fingers tightened around the handle of his spear—. Then… let's go get Ardan.
Without waiting for a response, he stepped forward. The crimson spear on his back spun and struck the ground with force. A roar of power burst from its tip: a wave of red energy, visceral, almost alive, violently surged outward.
The ground trembled. The rocky wall before them shattered with a thunderous blast, roots beneath the earth splintered like broken bones, and a new path opened through stone and steam.
Jirō said nothing else. He simply walked forward.
Meanwhile…
In the upper chambers of the castle, beyond the shadows, where the air was thick with perfume and rot, Ardan hung. His arms were stretched out in the shape of a cross, held by purple webs that glowed faintly as if they were alive. A strand of silk covered his mouth, preventing him from screaming, though he had already wasted his voice trying to break free.
The dampness in the room was unnatural. It smelled of rancid sweetness, of dead flowers and dried blood. Every second was a torment.
His eyes, open but weary, narrowed slightly at the sound of approaching steps. Not human steps, but a composed sound… claws and high heels. The rhythm of evil itself.
From the gloom emerged a hypnotic figure. The silhouette of a beautiful woman, with voluptuous curves and pale skin, her purple eyes glowing like liquid poison. Her long hair flowed like a cascade of shadow. She wore only a thin veil barely covering her chest, and walked as if she were dancing.
—You're awake, handsome… —she purred, caressing her own thigh before running her fingers across Ardan's chest—. You look so adorable hanging there… so helpless.
Ardan looked at her with pure hatred. His soul writhed.
The woman raised an eyebrow.
—How strange… my seductive power doesn't affect you. I don't even sense you… aroused. Could it be that you don't feel that kind of attraction?
She leaned in close to his ear and inhaled with perverse delight.
—It's true… how fascinating… —she snapped her fingers, and the web covering his mouth dissolved—. There we go, darling. Now you can speak.
Ardan spat to the side, glaring at her.
—Are you… the Spider Queen, Jorōgumo?
She laughed. A soft laugh, like crystal chimes, but with a sinister undertone.
—Well… I'd rather you not call me by such an old-fashioned name. But yes… I suppose that's one of them. Though I much prefer the pretty nicknames. "Lady of Desire," "The Weaver"… or even "Mother of Laments." They're all so poetic…
She stepped closer. Her skin brushed against his.
—Now tell me, sweet dessert… who are you? I'd love to know more about you… before I devour you, of course.
Ardan remained silent for a moment. His mind, however, was a storm.
"She's beautiful. I'll admit it. But… she's not what I imagined. I thought she'd be a grotesque creature, a monster with claws and fangs. But this… this is even more dangerous. She's not frightening like a demon… she's frightening like a beautiful lie."
"How did someone like her destroy an entire universe? How did she become a legend of darkness? I don't know. What I do know… is that if I don't get out of here soon… she'll be the end of us all."
He closed his eyes for a moment.
"Jirō… wherever you are… please, be careful."
The darkness of the tunnels was suffocating. There wasn't a single hint of natural light, not the faintest echo of life. Only the dim bluish glow emanating from Kogorō's spiritual body broke the blackness, casting ghostly shadows on the rough walls.
Floating beside him, wrapped in a layer of soft energy, Saria remained unconscious. Her breathing was weak, but steady.
Kogorō followed behind Jiro, growing more and more irritated, his brows furrowed and his face wearing a look of weary frustration.
— Ever since I joined you guys… —he muttered bitterly— I haven't stopped babysitting kids...
He clicked his tongue in annoyance as his eyes scanned the halls they passed through.
— And now we're walking through these damn dark corridors, full of aimless human skeletons... —he spat, not bothering to hide his disgust.
Around them, the scene was grim. Bones piled against the walls, cracked skulls, scraps of clothing stained with dried blood. A pit of forgotten souls.
The spirit turned his head and looked at the boy walking ahead. He couldn't help but throw a taunt tinged with concern.
— Hey, idiot… doesn't this get to you?
But Jiro didn't answer.
He walked firmly, without hesitation. His silhouette moved forward undisturbed, as if he didn't see anything around them. From Kogorō's perspective, the only thing visible was his straight back and steady pace.
No tension. No fear.
No soul.
And what was stranger: his lips moved. Very slightly. He murmured things to himself… but they were soundless whispers, as if he were talking to someone else, or to nothing at all.
Kogorō frowned.
This kid's worrying me... he thought. This doesn't usually happen… Jiro always talks. He always complains or mocks or yells… but now… he's completely silent.
Driven by growing concern, Kogorō picked up the pace, floating ahead of Jiro until he was right in his path.
— Jiro…
What he saw made him stop instantly.
Jiro's eyes… were red.
But not the bright red of rage. No.
They were dull eyes.
Like dead embers.
And the worst part...
The wound on his head was still bleeding.
A thin stream of blood trailed down his cheek, uncoagulated.
— Jirooo! —Kogorō shouted, a mix of fear and alarm in his voice.
Without thinking, he raised a ghostly hand and placed it on the young man's shoulder.
The contact made him react. Jiro blinked slowly, as if waking from a deep sleep.
— Huh…? Kogorō? What's going on? Why are we stopping…?
Kogorō looked at him sternly, but his voice was soft.
— Jiro… you're not even aware of yourself. You're bleeding and didn't notice. Come on, let's stop for a moment. Let me heal that wound.
Jiro, without arguing, raised his hand and touched his forehead. When he saw the fresh blood on his palm, he stared at it in silence for a few seconds.
— ...It's true —he murmured calmly, almost disconnected— I'm bleeding…
The silence was thick, heavy with tension. Kogorō raised both hands, still floating, his spiritual energy wrapped in a soft blue glow. His palms began to shine more intensely as he aimed them at the bleeding wound on Jiro's head.
Stay still, this will hurt a little —he said with a firm yet calm voice.
A thread of light emerged from his fingers and covered the wounded area. The bleeding stopped, and the tissue slowly began to close. A sigh of relief escaped Kogorō's lips as he finished the process.
That should be enough to stop the bleeding —he murmured, lowering his hands and watching the boy's face.
Jiro, now more lucid, took a deep breath.
Thank you so much, Kogorō… really.
For a few seconds, they stayed in silence. The atmosphere was still grim, but something had changed: the warmth of a sincere gesture in the midst of darkness.
And then, a small flicker broke the stillness.
Saria, still lying on the ground, slightly moved her eyelids.
A faint sign of life.
Meanwhile, elsewhere in the complex…
The Spider Queen had taken Ardan to what appeared to be a grand banquet hall, decorated with cobwebs like curtains and chandeliers made from human bones. The table was long, overly ornate, and full of food… but not the kind any human would wish to eat.
Meat. Raw. Half-cooked. Blood splattered like dressing.
Ardan, tied to a dark wooden chair with thick webs, observed in silence.
A Jorōgumo maid approached with a steaming dish, smiling with disturbing courtesy.
She'll be feeding you, sweetheart —said the Queen with a malicious grin, sitting at the far end of the table.
…I'm not hungry, thanks —Ardan replied coldly, not looking away.
The Queen tilted her head, accepting his answer with venomous grace.
As you wish.
Ardan's eyes scanned the table, then returned to her.
I know this is human meat… that's what you're eating, isn't it?
The Spider Queen let out a soft, almost seductive laugh.
Glad you figured it out.
That's never stopped me from enjoying them.
And that doesn't affect you at all? Killing people and devouring them? —Ardan asked, his voice thick with disgust.
Not at all —she replied, elegantly adjusting her hair—. You humans, just like animals, are useful for our nourishment. You also kill and eat animals. I don't see the difference.
It's not the same —Ardan said, frowning—. Some animals are necessary for the human diet… but what you do with humans is unjustifiable.
The Queen tilted her head gently, enjoying the debate.
The same logic applies to me.
You're just as necessary to beings like me. The food chain goes both ways, darling. Predators come in all shapes…
Ardan clicked his tongue in revulsion.
You're disgusting.
The Queen smiled wider, delighted by his disgust.
Though I must admit… —she said in a low, seductive voice, dragging the words— I do prefer eating men over women…
She leaned over the table, resting her chin on her hands, staring at him with those golden, spider-like eyes.
One of my favorite fetishes is… —she whispered lustfully— playing with my food until it can't take anymore… making it scream, moan, sweat… the pain they feel and their pleas… they turn me on even more.
I'm dying to do the same to you.
A faint murmur filled the air.
Saria slowly opened her eyes. The world around her still spun sluggishly, as if she were waking from a bad dream.
—Where… am I…? —she whispered weakly.
She sat up with some effort, glancing around in confusion. Her body ached, her mind was hazy, and her heart carried a mixture of rage and sorrow.
Ichika's betrayal, her brother's fall, the ambush by the Jorōgumo… it all kept replaying in her mind like a piercing echo.
But then, her eyes landed on Jiro.
—Hey, Jiro! —she called out, noticing the wound on his head—. What happened to you, Jiro?! Your head's bleeding…!
Jiro turned with a strained smile, trying to brush off his condition.
—It's nothing, Saria. Just a bit of blood… it's stopped now.
The Oni girl quickly knelt beside him, clearly worried.
—Don't say that…! You can't fight like this, Jiro. Look at yourself!
Jiro scratched the back of his neck, still smiling.
—Really, Saria, I'm fine… alive and kickin'…
He tried to act strong. He didn't want Saria to feel more guilty or worried, but his slow movements and the fatigue in his voice betrayed the pain still affecting him.
Saria frowned, then sighed.
—If you say so… alright.
Kogorō, who had been silently watching the moment, stepped in seriously.
—What matters now is that we hurry… we need to find Ardan.
—You're right! —Saria said, standing with determination—. And besides, I still have to beat that b**** Ichika! She's gonna pay! I'll roast that damn spider alive!
Literal flames flared in her eyes, her Oni energy reignited by rage.
Kogorō, arms crossed, thought silently:
What'll become of Ichika once Saria catches her…
—Let's go then! —said Jiro.
The three began running through the dark corridors, their footsteps echoing among the webs. Soon, they reached a gigantic door, old and engraved with arachnid symbols.
On either side, two unlit torches.
Without hesitation, Saria pulled out two fire talismans, placed them on the torches, and with a hand seal, both lit up instantly, casting a warm glow over the area.
—How are we supposed to get through that? —Kogorō asked, eyeing the door—. That thing's way too heavy…
But Jiro wasn't listening. His crimson spear was vibrating, wrapped in a pulsating aura of energy.
—HAH! —he shouted, slashing diagonally.
The crimson energy cleaved the massive gate in two, the echo of the impact rumbling like thunder.
Kogorō stared, eyes wide.
—…Right. Forgot you had that spear.
They moved forward, climbing a seemingly endless staircase.
—Come on, guys! —Jiro yelled—. We're finally getting out of here!
At the end of the corridor, Jiro slashed open the final door.
—We finally made it out…!
But his words were cut short.
The three of them froze.
Before them, an unexpected scene: dozens of Jorōgumo lay on the ground, writhing, some still twitching, others completely still… all drenched in blood.
And at the back…
A mysterious man.
He wore a straw hat that partially covered his face, a pale mask, and in his hand, a long-bladed katana.
His hand was bleeding, and dangling from it was the limp body of a Jorōgumo, which he let fall without a hint of emotion.
Blood dripped slowly from the tip of his blade.
His yellow eyes glowed — calm, inhuman.
He gazed at Jiro, Saria, and Kogorō without saying a word.
—W-what happened here…? —Jiro murmured in shock.
The echo of the blood dripping had not yet faded when the voice of the mysterious man broke the silence with a cold and dry tone.
—...You. Who are you?
That icy tone coursed through Jiro's body like a sudden current of fear.
His heart thudded violently. For the first time throughout the journey, he felt something he had never felt before:
an invisible pressure pushing against him from within.
It was as if, with every word spoken, the man was hurting him from the inside.
While the stranger spoke, his mere presence caused a subtle pain in Jiro's chest, like an invisible nail sinking into his spirit.
The man began to slowly approach them.
His steps were soft, but each one sounded as though it weighed tons.
Around him, a dark and intimidating aura spread, invisible yet tangible, like a spiritual storm of pressure.
—Could you please identify yourselves? —the man said with chilling politeness—. You don't appear to be monsters.
Saria, Jiro, and Kogorō felt as though they were facing a beast disguised as a man.
The air around them grew dense, and the stranger's gaze, so penetrating and empty, stripped them bare from the inside.
—Again… could you identify yourselves?
Jiro thought in silence, gritting his teeth.
"This is way too sudden… I thought we'd get to a higher floor, or at least a room in the castle… but this… who the hell is this guy…?"
—What… what should I do? —he wondered, his anxiety growing.
The stranger kept approaching.
In his hand, the katana dripped slowly. It was a broad, curved blade, polished but stained with blood.
A weapon that screamed death just by being looked at.
Jiro swallowed hard and gripped his spear tightly.
His voice trembled.
—I-I… I don't know what you mean by identifying ourselves…
—You go first! —he added in a defiant tone, trying to hide his fear.
Kogorō muttered softly, his teeth clenched:
—Jiro… we should get out of here. This guy doesn't seem like one of the good ones…
The man stopped in his tracks.
His yellow eyes pierced them like daggers.
—Much less you… —he responded in a cutting tone—. You don't seem like the good ones…
—And especially… you're with a Yōkai.
Saria took a step back. Her voice trembled:
—W-we don't know what you mean, sir…
—You're the suspicious one here…!
The Oni girl raised her voice, but her body shook from within.
Jiro's eyes caught a detail:
That man had spiritual orbs faintly floating around him…
And around his neck, a necklace of beads —like those of a monk, but stained with dried blood.
Jiro swallowed and prepared himself.
"There's no choice… this guy isn't reasoning. He's not going to let us go like this…"
He gripped his spear with both hands.
His eyes turned crimson, his inner energy emerging like smoldering embers.
The man with the katana took a step forward and murmured, as though announcing a sentence:
—It's clear. You're the enemy.
—Therefore… you must die.
And in a second…
CLASH!
They both leaped at the same time.
A pair of blinding cuts echoed through the air.
Sparks flew from the clash of steel, and the spiritual pressure exploded like a silent roar.
Jiro and the mysterious man exchanged the first strike…
…And the air around them split in two.